


(Candles, Coffee, and) The Holiday Soldier

by decotex



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Coffee Shop Fic, Gen, OC, Protective Steve Rogers, and doesn't understand coffee, but mostly steve likes helping people, but really, steve/oc in a friendly way, who does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:03:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decotex/pseuds/decotex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't teach you about pumpkin spice and salted caramel in basic training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Candles, Coffee, and) The Holiday Soldier

Steve Rogers, Captain America, the hero and savior of a nation across time, was terrified.

“Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get you?”

Steve stared and the menu. Words like “macchiato” and “frapuccino” stared back.

“Do you have just plain coffee? Without . . .” He gestured, unsure what he was even trying to indicate. “ . . . junk?

“One plain coffee, no junk. Tall, grande, or venti?”

“ . . . I’m sorry?” “Small, medium, or large.”

“Medium.”

“All right, one sixty. Can I get your name?”

“Steve."

“Thank you very much. Next?”

Steve took his receipt and wandered over to the side of the room, feeling vaguely like he had just been hustled. When had everything become so fast? He was proud of himself for facing this small but confusing part of the increasingly complicated new world.

A small flashing screen to his left reminded him of just how far left he had to go.

“Excuse me ma’am, could I ask you something?”

The woman looked up from her phone. She was young, maybe in her twenties, and looked as if she understood things like technology and coffee. She looked . . . hip? With it? Steve wasn’t sure what the proper term was anymore, only that the fact that he didn’t know meant it didn’t apply to him.

“Yeah?”

“That thing you ordered, the double . . . something . . .”

“Double-upside down caramel macchiato?” she recited.

“Yeah, what is that?” “It’s like a regular macchiato, but with a shot of caramel on the bottom.”

“What’s a macchiato?” Steve wasn’t sure how much it was socially acceptable to question without throwing up alarm some alarm bells. For example, he had learned earlier that week that it was okay to not know who Lady Gaga was but not okay to ask whether cars really cost more than $200 these days. (Steve’s concept of money was especially bad. He just paid whatever people told him to pay and tried not to worry too much about it. According to the bank and to Tony Stark, he was “loaded.”)

Apparently this question was acceptable, because the girl just shrugged. “Delicious. No, actually I think it’s some kind of latte.”

“Oh, okay. I see. Thank you.”

After a moment, she turned back to him. “Do you-”

“No, I have no idea what that is.”

“Me either! I mean, I know what it tastes like but I never really thought further than that."

“To be honest, this whole coffee system is foreign to me. I haven’t got a clue what any of this is. They seem to have everything except a plain cup of joe.”

“I feel you. They’re all good though. Just, maybe a bit complicated.”

"Anna?" the barista called.

The woman smiled at Steve. "My mystery drink is ready. See you. And good luck with the coffee."

"Bye. And thanks-" he called after her "-for the-"

"Lack of knowledge? Anytime."

\---

“A latte is a coffee drink made with espresso and steamed milk.”

Steve looked over. The ginger girl from last week sat at a nearby table, staring a laptop.

“Oh, you found out?”

“I saw you and remembered that I still had no idea what a latte was, so I looked it up, just now." She turned the computer to face him. "Come on, pull up a chair."

\---

They sat at the table googling items on the Starbucks menu until Steve realized that he was twenty minutes late to a meeting with S.H.I.E.L.D. and rushed out, trailing apologies.

\---

"You're late, Cap. And there's coffee on your shirt," Tony said, as Steve entered the room.

"Sorry, I lost track of time."

"What's her name? Crystal? Kandi?"

"Tony."

"Didn't know you swung that way, Cap. But whatever floats your boat. God knows I've had my share of-"

"If we could get back to the meeting, gentlemen."

Tony rolled his eyes.

\---

After the meeting, Tony and Steve exited the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters through the back door to avoid press.

"Anna,” Steve said, as they were waiting for security to validate their badges.

"What?"

"Her name's Anna, and she's my coffee buddy."

Tony looked at him for a moment, and then rolled his eyes. “Coffee buddy,” he scoffed. “Where’s my coffee buddy?”

\---

“My god, it’s snowing like hell out there. Aren’t you cold?”

Steve considered it. He didn’t really get cold anymore. He would rather it be warmer, he supposed. He usually just dealt with snow by ignoring it and hoping it went away.

“A bit, I guess. "

She shrugged. "Hey, if you want to walk around in a snowstorm without a jacket, it's your funeral."

Steve sat down at their usual table, and felt a bit of pride at having a usual anything. (It was the table they sat at when they coincidentally saw each other at the Starbucks on fifth street, a coincidence that was becoming less of a coincidence since through unspoken agreement they had both quietly rearranged their schedules to accommodate a 4 p.m. coffee run every Tuesday.)

"Oh, fuck me."

Steve prided himself on his resilience in the face of disorientation. A lesser man would have gone crazy long ago, between the airplanes and the internet and the crime fighting and Tony Stark walking around naked. But not Steve-Steve could adapt. Which is why Steve felt he only sounded slightly shocked when he answered, " . . . Excuse me?"

"No, sorry. The internet's down. Snow, I guess." She sighed and shut the computer with more force than was probably necessary.

"What's it going to be today then, Steve?"

They eyed the menu together. “I’m thinking hot chocolate today,” Anna decided.

“Pick for me. Last time I got a dark- a dark something, and it wasn’t very good. What do you like?”

“Well, I like macchiatos. And Americanos are good.”

“There’s an Americano? It’s strange that I haven’t ordered that before.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“What is it strange.”

“Ah. Well.” He was saved from answering by a sudden and complete darkness.

The Starbucks lapsed into a shocked silence.

“What the fuck,” he heard Anna’s voice say from the other side of the table.

And while Steve couldn’t quite bring himself to say it, he wholeheartedly agreed.

\---

Half an hour later, the local Starbucks had become what can only be described as a winter haven/fortified storm bunker combination, ruled by a one benevolent dictator Steve Rogers. The sudden intensity of weather had knocked out electricity, and while the employees had eventually broken out flashlights, it became clear that no one was leaving until the storm let up. The acting manager tried his best to take control of the situation, but started hyperventilating and had to go lie down. And then some woman had started screaming, and some kids started crying, and the blizzard picked up speed and started getting really, really, loud, and Steve had surveyed the room and seen civilians in need and felt, for the first time at ever at Starbucks, completely in his element.

He stood up, rolled his shoulders, and got to work.

\---

“That was impressive,” said Anna, as Steve was returning to their table.

“What?” He was unashamedly proud, despite it all. Starbucks, as it turns out, was a fantastic place to be stranded. The decorative candles (Starbucks ™ Cinnamon Apple) had all been lit and placed on tables around the room, and the holiday-themed towels (Starbucks ™ Holiday Line) had been hung from the windows to preserve warmth. The overall effect was very festive, and everyone was generally warm and happy, Steve and Anna included.

“The way you took charge. It’s like you work here.”

“Just doing my best to lend a hand. Your computer’s still running?”

“Yeah, it has a battery. It’s at ninety-two percent, so I’ll be good for a few hours or so. No internet though.”

“Oh. I see.” Steve stared at the candle, casting flickering shadows on the back of Anna’s laptop.

“Steve, can I ask you something a bit personal?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Are you Amish?”

“Am I-excuse me?”

“You’re not? Okay, sorry. I was just wondering, because you don’t really seem- I mean, no offense, it’s cool, I-”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m not from around here."

“Where are you from?”

“Ah well, that’s . . . complicated.”

“Oh no, it’s cool. If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s just . . .”

Ahh, to heck.

“Have you heard of Captain America?”

\---

Two hours later, Steve sat on the sofa (Starbucks ™ Furniture Line). Anna was curled up with a pillow next to him. It has just been them two at first, but slowly more people had begun to drift over until the entire population of the coffee shop had pulled up chairs and tables around Steve and Anna’s sofa. They were all listening to Captain America tell stories by candlelight.

“ . . . and there were five soldiers blocking the entrance, and I’m thinking to myself, how am I going to get my guys out of here? We’re in an enemy bunker, no radio contact, no ammo, no way of calling for backup. And then do you know what we hear?”

He paused, to survey the listeners. He hadn’t had an audience this attentive since he was on stage, punching Hitler in the face surrounded by dancing girls.

“ . . . _The air raid siren_. And I’m thinking, they’re sending in an air strike. We’re all going to die. And the Nazis are clearly thinking the same thing, because we hear shouts and movement. But then I thought, they knew we were in here. They wouldn’t order an air strike. Because in the army, in my day, at least, it was no man left behind. And I realized that it was a distraction. I turn to my boys, and I tell them we’re going to make a run for it. And those brave fellas just nodded and picked themselves up. So I kicked open the wine cellar door, took out the two guys in the hallway, and, well-” He smiled. “We all lived to fight another day.”

The room dissolved into applause, which Steve accepted with a small bow. Tony would have killed him for not bringing Captain America merchandise-he almost definitely would have sold out.

“Anyway, that’s all for tonight, folks. You’d all best get some sleep. The storm will probably have let up by tomorrow morning, and I personally promise to get everyone home safely.” This, apparently, deserved another round of applause, as people retreated to their temporary blanket beds (Starbucks ™ Sleep Aid). Steve and Anna were left alone on the couch.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I'm really offended you saved all of those peoples’ lives.”

“I know it’s not right to lie, but-”

“I understand. Being famous has gotta be tough. Lady Gaga told me.”

“No, it’s not that, even. I just like being . . . normal. Coffee is pretty normal. Anyway, I know it’s corny. Humor an old man.”

"Jesus. Don't say that. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that you were born before my parents.”

"Are you tired? I’ll watch your computer if you want to sleep. You can take the couch."

She grinned. “How _gallant_ of you, Captain.”

“Think nothing of it, civilian,” he said, in his best commander voice.

“Civilian? Don’t you dare.”

“Anyway, I insist.”

Despite this, or maybe in rebellion, Anna fell asleep against his arm while listening to him talk quietly about his time promoting the war across America, and he was too polite to wake her up. He had a strange urge to kiss her goodnight (on the forehead, of course, because he's not an animal), but decided that would be creepy, so he settled for closing his eyes and trying to sit as still as possible.

Steve looked over the makeshift shelter he had created, and at the people he had helped. It wasn’t normal, not by a long shot. But it was warm, and it was his, and it was fine.

They were fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this maybe two years ago? I've been adding and revising it for a while now, and I finally got around to uploading it. Cute coffee fics are the best. 
> 
> Gift for Carson, who does not have an Ao3 (what a nerd) ---> stuartprincess.tumblr.com/


End file.
